Skip to main content

The Afterlives of Devis




     The 13 minutes short movie Devi by Priyanka Banerjee screams out the disturbing and terrific facts on sexual violence and abuse towards women in India.Every 22 minutes, a woman is raped in our country,which is a fact that is often repeated. But it has to be, because the situation hasn't changed a bit.Ironically,on the one hand, we have multiple Devis that we worship at the clear daylight, and in the intensity of darkness, they are abused and brutally raped and are left with no choice.The movie displays the victims of rape and physical abuse gathered together after their death and disputes over the entry of the newcomer to the room which is already populated.In their afterlife, they don't believe in God, the 'Devis' are no longer worshiped, but sympathised and victimised. Regardless of caste, creed, profession,family,religion and age women are being raped in our country and marital rape is also not any different.But what stroked me is that during the entire movie,they haven't uttered the word, 'death'.It has become their reality and the world of humans has become the world of demons.Some are burnt alive,some are killed with knife,rods and stones,others strangled and some die out of the trauma after the incident.And this trauma is not any different from the pain that the others underwent.Even wearing a Burkha or being old or mute doesn't give you an excuse from not being raped and killed.When the new girl arrived, I was in tears and the characters were numb since she was too small to be there in her afterlife.This movie brilliantly tells the gripping social reality and voices the helplessness of women who are not safe even at their own homes through the metaphorical representation of afterlife.And while I finish writing this, another Devi is getting raped somewhere in India.
#devishortfilm

A.C

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

THE DREAMCATCHER ( A Poem)

She tried. And made the hoops from willows to wove those magical webs. Wrapped the hoop with suede lacing. The string was woven onto the hoop. Hours passed. She wove some of her favourite decorations to it. Feathers and gemstones, hidden with meanings. Hours passed. But she wanted it  to be perfect. And finally, here it is. THE DREAMCATCHER. She hung it on  her bedroom wall and watched it carefully. Rubbed it with an artist's pride. The hoop smiled, ensuring the travel of sun through the mighty sky. She thought that when night comes  the hole in the center would only let Bawedjige( good dreams)pass. She would be able to sleep safe and sound today. The nightmares will never ever haunt her. For she has her Dreamcatcher. And Bawedjigewin( bad dreams) will be trapped in the web, to be dispelled at the first light of morning. She slept. The sun rays pierced into her eyes. She opened her eyes with the innocence of a newborn babe. The thought stroke...

#17

Everytime there came a music from the old devastated house on the hilltop.It wasn't jazz or melody or rap or opera. It sounded the broken soul. The long lost soul set to dwindle and shrink in solitude.Sewed into melancholy and dresssed in rhapsody,the hilltop triumphed over the hurricane of that season.And the music from the house gradually faded away,to welcome the next season. A.C 

Recognition

'Happy Women's Day ' Those three words transformed her. It changed her imperfections into Perfections. It fastened her daily Chores. It gifted a smile to her Face. It motivated her Spirits. It gave rhythm to her Heartbeats. It made her Hairs dance. It increased the sweetness of her Lullaby. It brought back the glitters in her Eyes. It was the recognition from her Husband. A.C