Thoughts on ‘The Lunchbox’

Last week, at my daughter’s dance class, I was sitting with the other mothers and watching the kids diligently perform the steps that their teacher taught them. In between, when the teacher took some reprieve from the continuous singing, the kids would rush towards their satchels and take a sip of water. It was during one such small break that I was privy to a short exchange between one of the mothers and a student. It so happened that the break had unexpectedly extended somewhat due to a phone call for the teacher and the child in question - a young girl of around eleven or twelve years - was sitting next to my daughter and trying to whistle. She was probably only trying out what she had seen her brother or a classmate do, something as common as trying out a new candy which she had seen someone else have. And promptly came the reproof from one of the mothers seated nearby, “Shhhh! Don’t whistle child! It’s something that only boys do!” The young girl replied with a rueful smile, almost certain that she had committed a crime that she would never dare again; well, maybe not publicly!

As I looked on incredulously thinking of telling the lady that her opinion was medieval and not suited to the present times, another thought soon assailed me that telling her about equality for the sexes would serve no purpose. Living in a small village-town in Kerala (someone once said that there are no villages in Kerala; I forget who exactly) it has become ingrained in my psyche that my city-bred views of egalitarianism and equality for the sexes have to be subservient to the views commonly held here that are completely the opposite - in short, it’s a man’s world out here. Sure I’ve seen women get an education on par with men, seen them turnout in large numbers to vote and even ride the same motor vehicles as their male counterparts, still just as everywhere else in India - yes, even in the cities, but more so in the smaller towns and villages - the women of the house do get relegated to second class when it comes to basic human rights issues. When it comes to marriage and childbirth, it is the woman who has to make all the adjustments and sacrifices - often having to face the painful and tough choice of whether she wants a career or be a stay-at-home, unemployed mother. While girls are not supposed to be out after dark (absence of adequate street lighting along with presence of drunkards and anti-social elements freely roaming the streets only makes the situation even more deplorable) the time is no bar for boys and men folk. Issues of women’s security are just as ignored as in the rest of India irrespective of public outcry whenever a case of media interest makes it to the headlines. So, I sat quietly mulling over these things as the dance class resumed.

The reason I digressed for this long over a topic which might seem unconnected to the heading of this post is that for me, the two are in fact interconnected. What I mentioned above has strong vibrations in ‘The Lunchbox’. The central issues in the movie are about women’s rights and men-women relationships, especially regarding the institution of marriage, all rather skillfully woven with silken threads of culinary expertise. And the manner in which the tensions and conflicts, generally taken to be part and parcel of the lives of women, are portrayed in ‘The Lunchbox’ and given a window of resolution forms the exciting and fresh narrative that keeps viewers right in the middle of the story leaving no scope for our interest to wander off.

The movie opens with shots of the famous Mumbai Dabbawallas going about their routine even as Ila, the stay-at-home, multitasking mother, is caught in the daily morning frenzy of getting her daughter ready for school while preparing the lunchbox of her husband. The focus is on this lunchbox to pick up which the dabbawalla soon arrives with a formal ringing of the doorbell. Indeed, this particular lunchbox forms the crux of the film almost assuming a personality of its own even as it competes for attention from some brilliant acting of the cast including but not limited to Irfan Khan, Nimrat Kaur and Nawazuddin Siddiqui.

In preparing the lunchbox, Ila gets help from her upstairs neighbor - the lively and forthright Mrs. Deshpande (voiced by the amazing Bharti Achrekar) - whose voice is all the viewers get to hear to know her. And so the lunchbox sets out on its journey as a relieved Ila hands it over to the dabbawalla who ties it to his bicycle along with numerous others. The audience travels with the dabbawallas as their cycles carry the lunchboxes to the railway station where the boxes are loaded into a train and the next leg of the journey begins with the dabbawallas singing away until they reach the city. After reaching the city, the lunchboxes are sorted and taken to their respective destinations, that is, the people for whom the lunch was prepared in the first place. But here the cinematic element comes into play and we see the lunch box that had been prepared by Ila for her husband being taken to someone else. The entire film is built around the consequences of this rare error on the part of the dabbawallas.

The person who mistakenly receives Ila’s husband’s lunchbox is Saajan Fernandes - a man about to retire from his job as an accountant. Saajan is a socially challenged widower who does not realize the mix up initially believing that the restaurant tasked with preparing his lunchbox had delivered a very tasty meal, rather unusually for them. However, Ila realizes that her meal had not reached her husband but had gone to someone else when she sees the lunchbox come back wholly empty and on quizzing her husband when he comes home in the evening he reveals the food he had got, which was not what she had cooked. She conveys the mix up to Deshpande aunty whereupon the old lady tells her to write a note of gratitude to the person who got the lunchbox. Ila complies and along with the note prepares her husband’s favorite meal and sends it to Saajan. He reads the note and realizes what happened. He eats the meal and writes back to Ila saying the food was very salty. Upon getting the complaint note a surprised Ila talks to Mrs. Deshpande who advises her to put in a lot of chillies in the meal the next day just to get back for the complaint. Ila is hesitant but does what her neighbor asks nevertheless.

In this manner Saajan and Ila continue to communicate with each other - the small notes becoming a window into their world for the other to see and be acquainted with. The movie progresses through these epistolary exchanges and along with the protagonists the viewers too get to know more about the lives of Saajan and Ila and the various characters who people their worlds. It is revealed that Ila’s husband is having an affair and is not interested at all in keeping the marriage alive. A despairing Ila writes to Saajan who advises her to try for a second child but her husband seems least interested in the idea too. At work, Saajan is tasked with training Shaikh - his replacement - who he finds very annoying and has no bones about revealing his contempt for. The scene where a serious looking Shaikh asks Saajan about kicking a cat and Saajan tries to put Shaikh in his place with tongue firmly in cheek is hilarious and brings out the acting talent and comic timings of Irfan and Nawazuddin perfectly.

As Ila’s marriage unravels, Saajan begins to get to know Shaikh better and even develops a fondness for the ‘orphaned’ man so much so that he agrees to represent his family at Shaikh’s wedding. Meanwhile, Ila suggests to Saajan that they meet up and arranges a meeting at a famous restaurant. However, Saajan does not come and a dejected Ila decides that she would move to Bhutan for a starter as the currency value there is lower than that in India. She communicates the same to Saajan, who had plans to move to Nasik post retirement. Saajan jokingly asks her if she would allow him to accompany her to Bhutan.

Ila’s father who had been suffering from Cancer dies and a desperate Ila goes in search of Saajan. When she reaches his office Shaikh tells her that Saajan had left for Nasik. In a final note to Saajan, Ila tells of having sold the few pieces of jewellery she had on her person and planning to set out for Bhutan after her daughter came home from school. The film ends with Saajan getting off the train to Nasik and getting on the train that the dabbawallas used to try and get to Ila’s home. The audience is left with the hope that he would reach Ila in time to meet her and possibly go along with her.

The dismally suffocating life of a married woman who is left to herself by a husband who is either too busy travelling or simply uninterested in his wife has been explored brilliantly in yet another critically acclaimed film too - Astitva that was released in 2000 - where Tabu plays the wife left for long periods of loneliness by a husband who was frequently away travelling. The fact that women too can have desires that are not satisfied by their mate was a theme beyond most filmmakers who were content with stereotyping female characters as the forever timid damsels in distress. But ‘Astitva’ showed us a brave filmmaker who did not shy away from portraying a bold theme. And by the time ‘The Lunchbox’ came out in 2013 and was successful, both critically as well as at the Box Office and abroad, things had indeed started looking up both for Indian Hindi cinema as well as regional ones.

Ultimately, ‘The Lunchbox’ is a movie that shines forth with unusual vigor and cinematic brilliance encompassing a fragile love story that rings with heartfelt emotion and bravery. We fall in love with the characters and also identify with them to such an extent that we pray that the end would be a happy one even though the movie makes no promise to that effect. And it is that belief that things will turn out for the better for everyone at the end that keeps us viewers going to the theatres to watch movies.