Dildaar | ਦਿਲਦਾਰ.

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The mystical allegory of ‘The Shepherdess and the Seven Songs.’ (Laila aur Satt Geet)

Laila aur Saat Geet, directed by Pushpendra Singh takes you deep into the soul of northwest India. The film is inspired by a short story by Vijaydan Detha (who also provided the source for Singh’s 2014 debut feature, The Honor Keeper) and the poetry of 14th century Kashmiri mystic Lalleshwari, also known as Lalla or Lal Ded.

The geopolitical tensions of the Kashmir region become the backdrop for this beguiling romantic feminist narrative. Shot in the majestic mountains of remote Jammu and Kashmir, the region constantly under heavy surveillance by the army and the police, the story has both the feel of a mystic folk tale and a touch of present-day peril.

Pushpendra Singh’s captivating character study meticulously represents combating forces of cultural amalgamation and freedom, patriarchy and creative imagination. Laila (Navjot Randhawa), who finds herself stuck in a culturally stagnant world not out of choice but an arranged marriage to the shepherd Tanvir (Sadakkit Bijran), embodies this struggle on a spiritual level.

While she suffocates as a free-spirited woman and a traditional bride, Laila relies on the seven folk songs that play out in the film as guides, both accepting and subverting the very traditions that have landed her in this beautiful lush green land which comes across as inescapable.

The camera work exceptionally exhibits this feeling through many wide static shots. You feel Laila’s sensuous presence as a delicate but ferocious femme-fatale, with a stark awareness of her situation and a melancholic orientation towards a worldly detachment. Underneath it all, Laila is in control of her decisions and desires.

While the longstanding political tensions are a constant element in The Shepherdess and the Seven Songs, they are not what the film really is about. Instead, modern dangers in a traditional world and the opportunism that seeps into the lives of the Gujjar-Bakarwal community of shepherds become the focal point. Of much more importance is the quest of these characters to find meaning in their lives in an ever-changing world while they either accept or shift societal realities and find themselves normalizing corruption and gender inequality under the semblance of tradition or progress

The character of Laila poetically becomes a metaphor for the state of Kashmir itself, the paradisiacal land whose soul everyone stakes a claim on and wants to seize. At one point, Laila asks herself, “Why am I playing this dangerous game?” But the answer to that question is obvious, and it has to do with reclaiming her freedom. In another telling moment between Laila and Tanvir, he obliviously tells her while he reeks of male privilege, “You can’t argue with powerful people. You should be polite to them.” Laila responds daringly, “But for how long?” Such moments reveal the true motive of the film.

In the beautifully vague ending that one can almost get lost inside, The Shepherdess and the Seven Songs admits again that Laila simply wants to break free, no matter what the cost. All limitations that one associates with a linear narrative are not seen here. Instead, as we move through the snowy landscape with Laila, we may find ourselves extremely emotionally charged by the graceful sweeping shots of the majestic mountainous terrain, thanks to Ranabir Das’s hypnotic camera movement.

For so long, Laila’s fierceness as a woman has been driven entirely by the men surrounding her. But when that passé old veil is finally removed, Laila is not redefined by anyone else, but given the chance to recreate and revive on her own terms, completely away from the male gaze. Laila’s reawakening is also sexual in nature. After constantly turning down half-assed attempts at seduction from powerful men, a more confident clarity about her physical desires evokes in Laila. This clarity is profound and connected to an esoteric longing, clarified further by the songs of playfulness and seduction.

Laila Aur Satt Geet is a film that is a scintillating cultural excerpt, a disruptive political allegory, and a feminist tale of romance with self. The poised narrative is subtly punctuated with the richness of folk music from Kashmir and Central Asia on the themes of marriage, migration, regret, playfulness and ultimately, renunciation. It is a rare work of art, a compelling splendor that takes us on a journey into lives we never really see on the big screen.