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By:

Shoma A. Chatterji

21 August 2024 at 4:19:40 pm

Childhood for Sale

Khilawadi, a short fiction film directed by the young and sprightly Shobhita Thakur, alumnus of the FTII, Pune, is making news wherever the film is being screened. Why? The subject of the film is shocking in its inhuman brutality. Through a brief but powerful narrative, the film tells the story of the 12-year-old Sapna who is good in studies and dreams of becoming a doctor one day. The term “Khilawadi” is a locally used word associated with the Banchada community in Western Madhya Pradesh,...

Childhood for Sale

Khilawadi, a short fiction film directed by the young and sprightly Shobhita Thakur, alumnus of the FTII, Pune, is making news wherever the film is being screened. Why? The subject of the film is shocking in its inhuman brutality. Through a brief but powerful narrative, the film tells the story of the 12-year-old Sapna who is good in studies and dreams of becoming a doctor one day. The term “Khilawadi” is a locally used word associated with the Banchada community in Western Madhya Pradesh, particularly in the Neemuch-Mandsaur region. The word is believed to have evolved within the local dialects as a descriptive label for women employed in sex work, especially those living along or near major highways. Over time, strangely, the changes in social customs, in media technology, in traditional rituals, have not affected the age-old custom of putting daughters to prostitution the minute they reach puberty. Therefore, the term “khilawadi” has become an informal, locally used word associated with the Banchada community used rather pejoratively to refer to girls or women from the community who engage in highway-based prostitution, a practice historically linked to complex socio-economic and caste-based circumstances within the region. The term carries social stigma and reflects structural inequalities faced by the Banchada community. “We could not shoot in the actual location because we were told that it would be dangerous for the team to shoot there. So, we shot several kilometers away at a different location to keep the rural spirit of the topic intact. As a woman filmmaker and an artist, I feel compelled to tell this story of unimaginable suffering and exploitation of young girls. This film is not just a reflection of their pain, but a call for social change, urging society to recognize and address this persistent injustice,” says the director. The film uses a raw, unembellished cinematic style that highlights the stark realities of their lives. It opens in the classroom of a girls’ school. We are introduced to the 12-year-old Sapna. On her way back, she waits outside the window of the community health centre in the area to watch the lady doctor at work. The lady doctor beckons her inside and asks her why she is waiting at the window. Sapna asks her whether she can become a doctor like her. But when she is asked by the teacher what she wants to become when she grows up, a giggling classmate mocks her saying, “She can only become a dhandhewali - a vulgarized term for one who sells one’s body for money.” Sapna belongs to the Banchada tribe and while her mother, a prostitute herself, plans to sell her to prostitution planning to make some money from the “nath utharna” ritual, a traditional term for the first night, the price for the first night’s customer who gets the right to strip the girl of her virginity. The doctor however, takes the help of a social worker to get a caste certificate for Sapna which will convince her mother to continue her education as she will be entitled to a scholarship for her further education. But all attempts at getting a caste certificate come to naught and while the mother sits in front of the highway for customers in vain as she is ageing, she also prepares for Sapna’s initiation into the profession. Strangely, the males in this community extract huge dowries when they get married though they are practically pimping and their wives are drawn from communities other than the Banchada community and they do not practice prostitution. The entire family then begins to live off the daughter’s earnings. When Sapna fails to get a caste certificate, she is forcibly prepared for the nuptial night and the first customer who pays Rs.10,000 is a middle-aged man. The film closes on the figure of a crying Sapna squatting on the floor after the first night, while the camera pans to focus on the bed and captures the image of an ointment Sapna’s mother gave her to prevent from the first night turning into a torture of pain. The film is aesthetically well-crafted with beautiful cinematography, good music and above everything else, brilliant piece of acting by every single actor. The film is currently on its international festival circuit, having won major awards at the FascinAsian Film Festival (Canada) and been officially selected for the Kazan International Film Festival and Festival du Film de Nancy in France. (The writer is an award-winning film scholar and author of several books.)

Bharat’s Jetson Cities, Light-years Away from Nature

Updated: Jan 20, 2025

Jetson Cities

One thing is for certain: our Bharatiya cities, the big metros and towns, are fast becoming like the ‘Jetson’ cities. For those who are unaware of Jetson cities, these were first shown in the famous Hanna-Barbera cartoon series, the Jetsons, set in the 2100s, where cities are air-tight glass globules tethered to the ground, and the only way to get in and out are the flying cars. Yes, we, the city-dwellers, aspire to tall skyscrapers, spectacular bridges, world-class tunnels, swooshing metro trains, and we are building Jetson-like flying cars. A few HD drone images here and there, during the day and at night and around twilight, and we are content that our cities have become the cynosure of our own eyes. We want our cities to be brightly lit, with neon signs, laser shows, and large billboard videos. We would then fulfil our inner desire to have a city on par with Tokyo, New York, and Shanghai.


Our buildings, designed for the next 30 years, are well air-conditioned, shielding occupants from a soupy dust bowl of brown smog, soot, particulate matter, and fine dust. It is said that most new home buyers invest at least 10% of their property’s price in enhancing the interiors, soundproofing their homes, using air purifiers and conditioners, and disconnecting from the outside world for that much-needed solace. Indeed, large builders promote their projects as close to nature amidst tranquillity. However, there is always another builder eager to get one plot of land ahead of yours to enjoy that nature. To be truthful, access to nature now comes at a premium - even the skies.


Let’s assume the working-age population is occupied in the leisure of our Jetson cities, but how many of their young school and college-going kids have seen the long arm of the Milky Way galaxy from their cities? How many have witnessed a comet zooming by? How many know about endemic plants with medicinal properties? When did they last see a chirping house sparrow? How many know that the nearest sewage drain was once a freshwater stream? When did they last find their suburban beach prettier than the resort beaches of Maldives?


The intent to ask these questions is simple: Bharat is currently at a crossroads. Pundits are enthusiastic about a cultural renaissance on the horizon. Corporate leaders, on the other hand, want us to invest hundreds of hours each week to pay our dues to the growth of the national GDP. But no one asks, if a cultural renaissance is to occur, who will generate the new understandings and insights of nature that arise typically during such a period of human advancement? No one is actually asking, for whom are we building the nation if there is no time for children, or worse, if there is no time or intent to have children. In the process of growing rich, we are about to become old. By 2047, 65% of the population under the age of 35 will grow beyond 35 all at once, and we’d have an enormous population in advanced ages with a tapering young population, a graph that looks like a banyan tree. Unfortunately, that young population will have no access to the knowledge that nature has to offer, neither flora and fauna nor the seas and the skies.


Our urbane lifestyles need tempering. Such tempering can occur only if we ensure the revival of natural sciences during this period of cultural renaissance and nation-building. Let’s not rely solely on the educational system. With Indian Knowledge Systems, constructive changes are underway, and academic curricula are poised to improve for the greater good. However, true knowledge arises only when parents and grandparents introduce children to nature. Genuine understanding also develops from extracurricular activities in schools and colleges that encourage kids to observe, journal, and act on their discoveries. On the positive side, our country’s forest cover is increasing, as announced by the government. However, efforts must be made to ensure that every school or college, whether in Mumbai, Vijayawada, Gorakhpur, Ratlam, Thrissur, Bhuj, Faridabad, Imphal, Manali, Cuttack, or Ajmer, guarantees that their students are well aware of the endemic nature of their surroundings and are regularly observing and recording data on whatever interests them. Let kids observe rivers and understand the volume of water that flows through them. Let children learn about the decline of house sparrows in their cities and what steps should be taken to revive their populations. Let them study the bees in their nearby groves and recognise the vital role these bees play in nature.


Of course, you need to learn AI, robotics, fintech, the next generation of management courses, and all the engineering bells and whistles. However, we must not leave the next generation with inadequate comprehension and skills for understanding nature. We must ensure that nature conservation is not merely lip service or a tool for politicised green activists. This can be achieved if natural sciences are given the respect they deserve at the school, undergraduate, and postgraduate levels.


Indeed, I am a plebeian, and you might feel that you, too, could write a rant about the plight of our urban lives. Urban development and municipal experts have many solutions to propose, but few are willing to take action. However, that is not the issue I wish to highlight. I aim to illustrate a much larger concern—that Indian city dwellers are disoriented and devoid of nature, lacking a guiding star to lead them toward a brighter future. Our cities of Mumbai, Delhi, Bengaluru, Ahmedabad, Kolkata, and Chennai have taken on characteristics reminiscent of Jetson-like cities. We show little regard for the Nagar Devata, Gram Devata, and Van Devata, who have protected the cities, towns, and forests that once surrounded us. We wait for formal governance to clean up our beaches, rivers, and ponds without making sufficient efforts to prevent pollution in the first place.


For those striving to grasp spirituality not through the Puranas and Aadi-Granth but through new-age podcasts, I recommend watching Vinay Varanasi’s podcast on Bhagavan Vishnu’s Dashavatar. If it is clear that Bhagavan Vishnu does not tolerate disregard for Bhudevi or Mother Earth, why do we, the devotees of Bhagavan Vishnu, continue to pollute our Mother Earth—her air, soil, waters, and sounds? Or have we taken Elon Musk's words at face value, assuming our next destination is Mars after destroying Earth, only to ruin Mars later, even worse than its current clinically sterile state? If that is the case, then bear with me when I say this: these Jetson cities stand on precarious pillars of ego, victimhood, apathy, and consumerism, waiting to be toppled either by the true harbingers of order or by false prophets. Therefore, teach the next generations to observe nature, appreciate our coexistence with other species, and venerate the forces of nature. By doing so, we humans will be good, at least for the next thousand years. If not, prepare for a bleak future by the end of this century.


(The author is a Space and Emerging Technology Fellow at the Centre for Security, Strategy and Technology, Observer Research Foundation, Mumbai. Views personal.)

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