Lihaaf review: This Tannishtha Chatterjee-starrer fails to inspire despite its memorable moments

2.5/5

Story:Based on late writer Ismat Chughtai’s story of the same name, Lihaaf narrates the story of a woman denied the pleasure of marital consummation who seeks relief in the company of a masseuse.

Review: The film opens to summons being served to writer Ismat Chughtai (Tannistha Chatterjee). She is to be tried for obscenity in lieu of her book Lihaaf which narrates the story that the author encountered as a child. This story features a certain relative called Begum Jaan (Sonal Sehgal), a sexually repressed housewife of a man who couldn’t care less for her needs or desires. Chughtai fleshes out the events that she witnessed during her childhood when she went to stay with Begum Jaan for a brief period. It is then that she noticed the ignored housewife finding joy and comfort in the company of a masseuse and their equation surely seems more than words can describe or detail.

It is during this time when Chughtai, then a preteen, struggles to process things she witnessed. For instance, one night when she noticed Begum Jaan’s quilt rising from her bed to furnish a shadow that resembled an elephant, she couldn’t fathom what actually transpired. And when Begum Jaan’s masseuse takes off for a few days to attend to a personal issue, the lonely housewife is shattered and broken and even reveals an almost violent streak that Chughtai is unable to read or interpret.

The film laces Chughtai’s story with the court trial that it led to. During the trial, she’s hosted by Aslambhai (Virendra Saxena), an affluent family friend in Lahore and is accompanied by her close friend Manto who shares her ideologies and also urges her to approach her art in an uninhibited fashion.

Right from the first scene when we’re ushered into Begum Jaan’s haveli which is likened to a cage as a metaphor for her failed marriage, we’re greeted with poetic Urdu dialogue. Initially, this may seem nuanced and perhaps an accurate depiction of the time. But a few scenes down, what seemed like a cultivated exchange that becomes overbearing and a bit melodramatic. It almost feels like a scene from Jodha Akbhar being set inside a Mughlai restaurant with extras from Alif Laila.

Chatterjee is surely the only redeeming element in the film and adds life and colour in her resolute and sharp-witted Chughtai. She infuses the feisty author with the matter-of-fact manner and nails her one-liners with little refrain. Sadly, none of the other performances deserve a mention. Sehgal, as the brooding housewife Begum Jaan, almost cracks in the scene where her character is experiencing a meltdown.

Sehgal, who’s also co-written the film along with director Rahat Kazmi, perhaps deserves credit for some of the dialogue. For instance, in the scene where the prosecutor takes objection to use of the chaati (chest) in Chughtai’s eponymous title, she claps back sayings “Chhaati ko chhaati nahin bolenge toh kya moomphali bolenge?” But these have to be among the few bearable scenes in an otherwise dull film.

Verdict: Chughtai’s Lihaaf is a brave and path-breaking story of a same sex relationship. Written in 1942, the public outcry it led to is hardly shocking, considering the intolerance to alternative sexualities at the time. And the fact that this story is about Chughtai managing to trounce the case of obscenity filed against her would make this an important film today. Particularly since the clampdown on artists, makers and creators today has reached a point that even standup comics today must review their material to avoid being slapped with legal suits. Sadly, this short film’s telling is uninspiring and dated and makes sitting through it a laborious task.