'I wanted to go for the heart, and at the same time, open the audience's mind.'
Does anyone remember Shah Bano -- the 69-year-old divorcee from Indore whose long legal struggle resulted in a Supreme Court judgment that came to be known by her name?
Unwilling to pay his wife of 46 years a monthly maintenance as ordered by the court after he drove her out, Shah Bano's husband divorced her, arguing that divorce ended their relationship and hence he didn't need to pay her maintenance.
The Supreme Court rejected his argument, but while upholding her right to maintenance, made remarks on Prophet Mohammed and on the necessity of a Uniform Civil Code. These remarks triggered the ulema into launching a nationwide agitation, which resulted in Shah Bano giving up her Supreme Court victory, and then prime minister Rajiv Gandhi enacting a new law exclusively for Muslim divorcees, to deprive them of their right to lifelong maintenance.
Expectedly, the Bharatiya Janata Party cried 'Muslim appeasement'. To placate them, Rajiv Gandhi's advisor Arun Nehru advised him to open the locks of the Babri Masjid.
The 1985 Shah Bano judgment and its aftermath thus proved to be a turning point in the country, reviving a weak BJP, and electrifying the Ayodhya movement that culminated in the demolition of the Babri Masjid.
Director Suparn S Varma brings the Shah Bano case to the big screen in his latest film Haq being released on November 7.
"I decided to make it a compelling human story, which would give a balanced perspective. A perspective where it can be seen as an Indian film, not a film about a community, and definitely not one where a community is projected as an Aurangzeb or a Khilji," Suparn S Varma tells Jyoti Punwani, the first journalist to interview Shah Bano 40 years ago.
What drew you to this story?
After Sirf Ek Bandaa Kaafi Hai, I was looking for interesting material which would resonate with audiences. Films about faith do that.
But when Haq came to me as a story idea, I hesitated, fearing it could turn out to be a propaganda film. I decided to make it a compelling human story, which would give a balanced perspective. A perspective where it can be seen as an Indian film, not a film about a community, and definitely not one where a community is projected as an Aurangzeb or a Khilji.
It was at heart a domestic dispute that became a national dispute.
Shah Bano became nationally known only after the Supreme Court judgment. Your film ends with the judgment, and focuses on her struggle till then. Why?
A film on the post-judgment scenario would have been a very different political drama. My goal was to make an emotional human drama. Yet, I've shown everything I needed to.
I wanted to go for the heart, and at the same time, open the audience's mind.
Basically, as a filmmaker, I'm here to entertain. When people ask: What are you trying to convey, I say I'm not trying to teach the audience anything.
If my film bores you even for a second, I'd have failed as a filmmaker.
The film talks a lot about women's rights under Islam. You must have consulted experts on this. Did you read the Shah Bano judgment?
Legal experts, Islamic experts, we sat with them all. We got someone from Jamia Milia Islamia to conduct research too.
Yes, I read the judgment. We had to be legally correct. We had to know what parts of the judgment could be read out in court by the Chief Justice.
Given that Shah Bano herself came into the limelight only when she was 69 years old, how did you conceive of the heroine's character?
We made the heroine Shazia Bano a maulvi's daughter and a five-time namazi. It was important to show that she had knowledge of the Koran, else she couldn't be shown talking to maulvis about it.
Even as her husband's ambitions rise as the case progresses, she stays true to her faith and can hence talk about the correct interpretation of the Koran.
That's why the crucial scene wherein she says "Iqra", the first word of the Koran, meaning "Read".
Why was it important for you to make her a woman who knows her faith?
The first shot after the titles in my film Sirf Ek Bandaa Kaafi Hai is of the prosecution lawyer pouring milk on a Shivling; he was himself a Shiv bhakt.
The last part shows a conversation between the deities Shiv and Parvati wherein Shiv says that the godman misused faith, and therefore his sin is unforgivable.
The minute you talk about faith, it resonates with people. If the basis of that faith is brought into the arguments in the film, you get the logic correct.
For me, there's no bigger faith than humanity. Our Constitution is also based on humanity.
So your heroine is uneducated but knowledgeable about her faith. How else did you flesh out her character?
Shazia Bano came from a place of love. She met her husband just once before marriage -- in those days they probably married without meeting at all -- and she made her world around him. She even accepted his second wife.
She could take a lot of s**t, but she was a highly self-respecting woman, and she wasn't going to turn back when she knew she was right. To show her father's support for her was essential.
Shah Bano's father was a police constable. You've made him a maulvi. Her daughter has sent you a legal notice saying you've misrepresented her mother. Why didn't you just meet the family?
Our legal team is talking to the family. But I feel when they see the film they will be moved. I hope they are moved.
If I was making a biopic, I would have met the family. Here, I was inspired by the Shah Bano judgment and the judgments of Tahira Bi and Fazlun Bi, which were the precedents for the Shah Bano judgment. But it's not a film on Shah Bano.
Why did you put that end note praising the 2019 law criminalising instant triple talaq. That had nothing to do with Shah Bano's case.
In fact, the manner in which she was divorced was not part of her fight at all, yet you have made it so.
I wanted Shazia Bano to point out that the way her husband divorced her, by saying talaq thrice, was not the Koranic method of divorce.
As for the end note, my lawyers told me to put that in.
How did you conceive of the husband's character?
I wanted Abbas to be understood, not someone who's black and white. His reaction when his office colleague tells him about his relative's second marriage, shows that it was normal in his world.
It made no sense for him to say sorry for bringing another wife home, as Shazia Bano demanded.
Your film talks about an interpretation of the Koran that many reformists and feminists share, one that is not generally talked about, specially in Hindi films, and specially today. How did you come to do that?
These are thoughts that my writer and I share.
I was brought up by a single mother -- my father died when I was little.
I grew up with two women: My mother and younger sister. Not that that's essential for this understanding, but that probably contributed.
The problem is, nothing has changed. We still live in a man's world. If a woman is touched, her clothes are discussed. It's an unequal world, full of gender bias.
There are a lot of Islamic symbols in the film: Masjid domes, the main characters doing namaaz... How did you get the milieu? Do you have Muslim friends?
My mentor was the actor Feroz Khan, one of the most well-read, decent, charming men I've known. I've had Muslim friends while growing up; now too.
For the film, I spent time in Lucknow, talking to people, walking around. A lot of shooting was done around Lucknow, in places like Unnao which reminded me of Bareilly, where my father came from.
But there aren't that many Islamic symbols. You hear the azaan only twice in the film, and there's no hijab at all. Masjid domes -- well, if you shoot in Lucknow, it's inevitable.
I've tried to keep it from being a "Muslim" film. The minute you try to push a film into becoming about a community, it becomes all about identity. Like a Hindu must be shown with a tilak; a Muslim with a topi. I don't like that.
While designing the film, I felt it very important for the audience to see an "Indian" film. Muslims don't view films as "Hindu" films; why should Hindus view a film as a "Muslim" film?
I needed to normalise the setting. After all, we have lived in a Ganga Jamuni tehzeeb, where Bismillah Khan played the shehnai on the banks of the Ganga, where Hindu actors read scripts in Urdu.
Today Urdu is being made into a foreign language, but it's our language, it's the best of Hindi and Farsi put together. I wanted to hark back to that world.
These days with films like Kashmir Files, Bengal Files, Kerala Story being made, did you ever feel that Haq could also be seen as one more film to bash Muslims with?
That thought did make me pause.
But this story resonated so much with me. I've tried to make sure it's true to what I want to say.
My colleagues who wish to make the films you've named -- well, in a democracy, they are free to do so.
But the path I've chosen is different. I'm coming from a place of zero prejudice or propaganda.
My Muslim friends have loved the film; they've told me how difficult it has been for them in the last 10 years, to have been portrayed as either Aurangzeb or Khilji. Emraan Hashmi's father couldn't stop weeping after he saw it.
What was the most challenging part of making the film?
The last 20 minutes in the courtroom. I had to hit the right notes, specially Emran's speech about his community.
I wanted to show where this attachment to their personal law was coming from.
The real Shah Bano struggled and won, but eventually lost. Your Shah Bano struggles and eventually wins.
After showing her struggle for 20 years, I wanted the audience to leave inspired. I wanted her to walk out with her head held high.
Finally, who is your target audience?
Everyone. All of India. Everyone who has a heart and who likes good cinema.
Feature Presentation: Ashish Narsale/Rediff
