Saara Vajra review: Anu Prabhakar Mukherjee is the beacon of light to this poignant, slightly outdated narrative

3/5

Story:

Upon her mother's insistence, Nafisa (Anu Prabhakar Mukherjee) is married off to a "city man". But Nafisa is delicate, innocent, and boasts of the rustic small-town charm, and her dark skin complexion repels her new husband who soon seeks divorce to get married the second time. With a newborn to take care of and a rather murky future ahead, young Nafisa begins to live through the tough times that come attached with social stigmas, heartbreaks, and belittlement. Regardless, this poignant tale shows how Nafisa forges on to reveal an inner strength and the will to survive in a society reeking of patriarchy and unfairness.

On an endearing note, Saara Vajra begins with author Sara Aboobacker's small video note to the audience. The now-85-year-old writer and social thinker is known for her semi-autobiographical work that is largely based on small-town India and the many shades of the plights of Muslim women in those societies. "Many of the Muslim men, who were also part of the political ranks, often spoke of treating the young girls of their community like diamonds or flowers. In my entire lifetime, I haven't come across a single person live up to those claims," says the delightful Aboobacker in the opening note and without any embellishment, we are introduced to the film's world; for a film that remains modest and simple throughout with respect to scale and reach, this overarching statement by the author herself is perhaps the best possible beginning.

And without second-guessing, Saara Vajra remains a "simple" film all along but director Aarna Saadya exhibits a lot of conviction about her material. The simplicity is seen only in the making, for the subject material brims with poignance and intensity, and judging by the ordeals that the filmmaker had to go through to tell the story, the lack of scale and scope can surely be discounted. 

The story is set many decades ago in a tiny coastal village in the Kasaragod district. Nafisa's parents, played by veteran actors Ramesh Bhat and Sudha Belawadi, are tobacco growers who live in an ample-sized home that is either filled with laughter or pleasant silences. And Nafisa, the apple of their eye, has grown up to be demure and naive, unaware of the many "realities" of human existence outside her home or the village. Her mother, however, opposes the idea of her daughter remaining stuck in the village and enduring the same life that she did herself, and coerces the father to find a city-based suitor for Nafisa. But much to their dismay, the new son-in-law proves to be shallow and is only rebuked by Nafisa's unkemptness and dark complexion. He would impregnate her regardless but then also shows the audacity to seek divorce and marry a second time. 

At first glance, Saara Vajra seems like a stoic take on the patriarchy and poor societal standards for women. While the film does all that, in the truest essence it is a coming-of-age tale that happens to chronicle the many phases of Nafisa's life. For both Aarna Saadya and her writer K. Narendra Babu, Nafisa is a case study to make a larger point that through the course of time and generational changes, several women have encountered the same unfairness and bullying at the hands of the society but a select few (including Sara Aboobacker) have somehow broken the shackles to forge an identity for themselves. It is at this point in the narrative, right after Nafisa is divorced, that we see some kind of unsolicited wisdom beckon her, as they she were now a bruised war returnee, and the film too blooms alongside.

Saara Vajra, for all its many artistic merits, is over-the-top in terms of tone and nuance. Be it in the dialogue or the camera blocking, we sense a setup similar to that of a theatre stage and barring a few picturesque shots of the countryside, the overall visual palette of the film is underwhelming. Aarna Saadya, the director, has an ensemble that mostly comprises unfamiliar faces, and the performances, while matching the tone of the film, seem a tad outdated. Sara Aboobacker's story is vibrant and fascinating that traverses elements like rural life, beauty standards, unrequited love and affection, and it is apparent that the film needed a bigger scope or vision for the retelling.

Despite all the shortcomings, Nagendra Babu's screenplay carries interesting energy and the scenes play out in a vignette-like form that saves the film from becoming overbearing. As a chronicle of a woman's trials through the course of four to five decades, the screenplay is a pleasant surprise as it never pauses to reflect but instead maintains a steady distance to only watch and empathize with the story at hand. The Mappila Muslim culture too is shown without any glitches in the film and the entire cast can be seen embracing the nuances to great effect. V. Manohar's soundtrack becomes an abled companion to the storytelling as he renders a few nice tunes in his quintessential old-school style.

And Anu Prabhakar Mukherjee, in what could be termed her come-back performance, is the film's beacon light. Having been one of the top leading ladies of her time, one senses that she took on the opportunity without any air of arrogance or superiority but instead lent her sincere time and effort to the project. Be it as the Nafisa who is young and credulous, or as the slightly worn-out and aged version, Anu Prabhakar shines in the author-backed role and her skill as a performer shows in the way she nonchalantly molds her demeanor and body language for each timeline in the narrative. Along with the seasoned minds of Ramesh Bhat, Sudha Belawadi, and others, Anu Prabhakar leads the ensemble with a lot of gusto and helps the film too grow in stature.