Kabeer and Durga sense it too. But the two men on a scooter who accost them seem worse, scarier. And soon the van assumes a life of its own, transforming into a scary, psychedelic predator. That’s the only way they can experience, feel their existence. And the ensuing nightmare of taking someone’s help. They are not dictated how to wear anything.S Durga shows a face of India that’s neither susheel, nor sundar, nor sanskari. Are you stupid, don’t https://www.hncypacking.com/ PET film manufacturers you see what’s so obvious to us? Don’t you sense the threat? And just then, the men say something, do something and the threat kind of dissipates.This long, troubling scene sets off what happens next, in the same city, on the same night, after the deity has been burnt. Yet, with each plot twist, each encounter, it strips these men — and others who appear to harass or just turn away — revealing a scary side, while never quite making their intent known.
Kabeer murmurs something.S Durga is a road thriller but it uses the genre’s plot devices and the intensifying, claustrophobic rhythm of imminent threat to a different effect.Kabeer and Durga seem to be in a rush to flee, to get somewhere, urgently, away from someone.S Durga tells us very little about the people in the van.And then the camera pans to them — they are at a distance, away from the sanctum sanctorum of this cultish, macho, righteous insanity.It’s just real. Now they seem crass, but not malicious.S Durga is a difficult film to watch. But there it is again — a predatory coaxing, a wanton, illicit comment.Here the fear, the possibilities, the anticipation of the unknown generates a foreboding that’s scarily real.A guy on a bike drops Kabeer (Kannan Nayar) to where Durga (Rajshri Deshpande) has been waiting for him, by a road.There are two men in the van, sitting in front.The toxic masculinity in the car has doubled now, squeezing Kabeer and Durga in between.A loud, urgent, desperate cacophony begins in our heads — get out, jump, walk, run. Kabeer and Durga are quiet, nervous.Kabeer tries to wave down cars, to hitch a ride to the railway station.
One man thrusts a water bottle towards Durga, insisting that she drinks from it.And reality, it seems, bites Ms Irani.In 2015, addressing the Women in the World Summit, Smriti Irani, then the HRD minister said, “Women in India are not told what to wear. We sense their vulnerability and then we catch the tone of the two men as they begin asking intrusive questions. On the dashboard of their van sits a small Durga statue being venerated, constantly, by a light that changes from red to blue to green with each blink.Nothing that the men in the van do or say to Kabeer and Durga could qualify as criminal, and yet the dance — reminiscent of the opening sequence — of unbridled, toxic masculinity, this time around a woman they don’t hold up high on their heads, but like to watch squirm, cry, are moments when humanity bares its ugliest face.It’s dark outside and inside the car.What’s clear, however, is that these men, who were paralysed and could barely squeak in the face of power in uniform, can obscure their impotency, insignificance only by torturing another.The car lights up only when a vehicle from the opposite direction, on high beam, blinds the driver, momentarily showing us a pair of eyes, a grin, an expression, conjuring a mix of anxiety and fear that this may not be a casual ride to the railway station.
And the moment they get an opportunity, they escape. They sit hugging a bag.”But some women, when in power, feel entitled to decide which stories about Indian women can be told, and which ones are best kept a family secret. We don’t see faces properly and yet we sense malignancy in this man’s insistence. And then the van arrives again, now with two more men, and their aggressively protective attitude towards Kabeer and Durga seems at once comforting, dubious. He’s trying to shield Durga and not to offend the men.. And having watched it, it’s disturbing and stays with you for a while because it is disturbing real.The trauma of being at strangers’ mercy, watching men who get high on the increasing vulnerability of another touches a nerve that throbs in the guts of most Indian men and women — the nightmare of being alone on a deserted road at night. A Maruti van stops
Kabeer murmurs something.S Durga is a road thriller but it uses the genre’s plot devices and the intensifying, claustrophobic rhythm of imminent threat to a different effect.Kabeer and Durga seem to be in a rush to flee, to get somewhere, urgently, away from someone.S Durga tells us very little about the people in the van.And then the camera pans to them — they are at a distance, away from the sanctum sanctorum of this cultish, macho, righteous insanity.It’s just real. Now they seem crass, but not malicious.S Durga is a difficult film to watch. But there it is again — a predatory coaxing, a wanton, illicit comment.Here the fear, the possibilities, the anticipation of the unknown generates a foreboding that’s scarily real.A guy on a bike drops Kabeer (Kannan Nayar) to where Durga (Rajshri Deshpande) has been waiting for him, by a road.There are two men in the van, sitting in front.The toxic masculinity in the car has doubled now, squeezing Kabeer and Durga in between.A loud, urgent, desperate cacophony begins in our heads — get out, jump, walk, run. Kabeer and Durga are quiet, nervous.Kabeer tries to wave down cars, to hitch a ride to the railway station.
One man thrusts a water bottle towards Durga, insisting that she drinks from it.And reality, it seems, bites Ms Irani.In 2015, addressing the Women in the World Summit, Smriti Irani, then the HRD minister said, “Women in India are not told what to wear. We sense their vulnerability and then we catch the tone of the two men as they begin asking intrusive questions. On the dashboard of their van sits a small Durga statue being venerated, constantly, by a light that changes from red to blue to green with each blink.Nothing that the men in the van do or say to Kabeer and Durga could qualify as criminal, and yet the dance — reminiscent of the opening sequence — of unbridled, toxic masculinity, this time around a woman they don’t hold up high on their heads, but like to watch squirm, cry, are moments when humanity bares its ugliest face.It’s dark outside and inside the car.What’s clear, however, is that these men, who were paralysed and could barely squeak in the face of power in uniform, can obscure their impotency, insignificance only by torturing another.The car lights up only when a vehicle from the opposite direction, on high beam, blinds the driver, momentarily showing us a pair of eyes, a grin, an expression, conjuring a mix of anxiety and fear that this may not be a casual ride to the railway station.
And the moment they get an opportunity, they escape. They sit hugging a bag.”But some women, when in power, feel entitled to decide which stories about Indian women can be told, and which ones are best kept a family secret. We don’t see faces properly and yet we sense malignancy in this man’s insistence. And then the van arrives again, now with two more men, and their aggressively protective attitude towards Kabeer and Durga seems at once comforting, dubious. He’s trying to shield Durga and not to offend the men.. And having watched it, it’s disturbing and stays with you for a while because it is disturbing real.The trauma of being at strangers’ mercy, watching men who get high on the increasing vulnerability of another touches a nerve that throbs in the guts of most Indian men and women — the nightmare of being alone on a deserted road at night. A Maruti van stops
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