Before Laal Singh Chaddha, a look at Hindi films that pushed the envelope of disability representation in cinema

I remember reading The World According To Mister Rogers, by Fred Rogers, and there’s one paragraph in that book that has perhaps stayed with me the most. It goes like, “__Part of the problem with the word ‘disabilities’ is that it immediately suggests an inability to see or hear or walk or do other things that many of us take for granted. But what of people who can’t feel? Or talk about their feelings? Or manage their feelings in constructive ways?” It is true though, isn’t it? Is there a bigger disability than the inability to feel, to love? Maybe not.  

On the heels of Laal Singh Chaddha’s release, it has sprung to my mind that the representation of the differently-abled in Hindi cinema has been quite interesting so far. It has been somewhere between being reductive and one-dimensional, and memorable and decent. The Forrest Gump, Hindi remake has seemed to me like a bad idea, from the day it has been announced, and the trailer only reassures my apprehensions. It’s simple, some things are sacred and best left untouched. If Tom Hanks may not be able to pull off a Dangal, then why can’t Aamir Khan see that he can’t do a Forrest Gump, because it’s already been done so well? For some reason, every time he has to portray a different character, the famed perfectionist seems to retort to a wide-eyed, and ears-out portrayal that looks derogatory and mocking, to say the least. While Mr Hanks molded into the skin of Forrest Gump, Khan looks like someone mimicking a differently-abled person, almost as if it’s a parody and not a remake.  

However, this shoddy performance of a person with disabilities isn’t surprising, because Hindi cinema has for a long time seen them as objects of comic relief. The differently-abled are appallingly marginalised in society, and given that cinema is one of the most mainstream, and accessible mediums of media in this country of over a billion people, it holds an unquantifiable power to either make or break stereotypes. So far, down the line, it has been the former.

Take for example, Housefull 3, where the three men pretend to be blind, deaf, and wheelchair-ridden in order to gain sympathy and provide slapstick comedy. Even in Rohit Shetty’s Golmaal series, a mute character, Lucky played excruciatingly by Tushar Kapoor, is repeatedly made fun of, with dialogues like tera speaker phata hua hain. He is treated humiliatingly, for commercial gains and some inconsiderate waves of laughter by an audience that does not maybe think of what this means for people who’re actually mute.  

However, my favourite example, of representation gone wrong, has to be Koi Mil Gaya, where Hrithik Roshan plays a character who suffers from brain injury and therefore is treated miserably by the people around him. It is only when Jadoo, the blue alien comes to rescue does he actually get acceptance because the alien has bestowed  Rohit with superpowers to make him smarter and stronger. It is a fantastical way of telling us that acceptance is not others problems, but ours, and in order to get it and deserve it, it is we who must change, a message that is clearly problematic.

That said, even whilst such representations are more common than not, there have been films that have pushed the envelope with their depiction of disability. These films are far from perfect, but they do have their heart in the right place, and in many ways have impacted the ways in which differently-abled people are perceived.

My Name Is Khan, is perhaps one of the finest films that depict disability, and a lot of credit for that goes to Shahrukh Khan. While I agree that inclusivity and representation matter gravely, making it important to have real people with disabilities to act in such roles, I also know that it’s equally important for familiar and crowd-pulling faces like that of Shahrukh Khan, to perform roles like this. When an oblivious audience watches the King Of Bollywood, portraying a character with autism, there’s a sudden interest in knowing about the disorder, and that can only come when a star like Khan not only plays such a character but plays it with much-needed finesse and dignity.

Another reason why the film is so important, is because it has a man who is known for his charm and romance, playing an autistic lover, therefore normalising the disorder, as well as the concept of inter-abled relationships. In Golmaal, Lucky uses his friend’s voice to woo a girl, because disability is seen as something bad. He later finds out, that she is deaf in reality, implying that disabled people, can only have lovers and partners if they too are disabled, but My Name Is Khan breaks this norm, by not only showing an inter-abled relationship, but by showing it on an on-screen couple that is known for their rose-tinted romance.

It builds a subconscious perception of how autistic people or differently-abled people, in general, aren’t just their disability, but like any person, are lovers, fathers, friends, brothers, and more. Rizwan’s autism isn’t his sole identity, it is just his matter-of-fact reality. The film makes a poignant political, social and emotional commentary on how we differentiate between people using whatever our scrambling minds will give us – religion, disability, caste, colour, creed, where does the list end?

Another extraordinary example is perhaps Barfi, a film that has layered representation of multiple people with disability, navigating life and love. A film that was sensitive, aware and considerate of the matter at hand. There are other films too, worth mentioning, like Taare Zameen Par, which broke the stigma around mental disorders, or Guzaairish which explored euthanasia and what it means to be quadriplegic. There’s a scene in that film, where Ethan is looking at a few boys playing football, and in that moment there’s a painful realisation of all that has been robbed of him. Roshan brings in the much-needed vulnerability in the scene, making it one of the most memorable depictions of how the differently-abled feel.

There’s also Guru, in which Vidya Balan’s character is someone who disabled. She is a force to reckon with in that film, and in one particular scene there’s a beautifully done kiss that happens between Shyam (Madhavan) and Meenakshi (Balan). The whole scene has been performed, written, and directed with so much empathy, that you’re left in awe of how beautiful humans can be, but for the most part aren’t.

That said, for me even Zero, a film that was quite unflattering and problematic, did do, it’s bit in going a step forward. Mere Naam Tu, a song in the film where SRK’s Buaa plays a vertically challenged man, while Anushka’s Aafia suffers from cerebral palsy, is a song filled with everything that a quintessential Shahrukh Khan love song is filled with, and more. It gave two disabled people a larger-than-life moment filled with sheer love and laughter, as they grappled with their mundane, and not-so-easy lives.  

As I come to an end, this piece would be utterly futile and devastatingly incomplete, if I do not mention Jalsa, and the endearingly phenomenal Surya Kasibhatla. Suresh Triveni’s casting of Surya as Vidya Balan’s son with cerebral palsy is monumental because of the representation and inclusivity that the film automatically champions by bringing in an actor who doesn’t have to act the disorder, because he is living it every second of every day. It also naturally makes the film more authentic because you’re not in burden to make it look like it’s real, because it is real. We have a long way to go, when it comes to casting differently-abled actors, in characters who are differently abled, and for that reason alone, Jalsa is a stellar moment in Hindi cinema, and Surya is a testament to how we must be accepting of people, while also determining someone’s presence not by their look, or appearance, but by their ability to give their everything.  

Margarita With A Straw, Paa, Yuvraaj, are a few other films that have depicted disability not for commercial gains, and laughters, but simply for the joy, of celebrating life, and humans, irrespective of they come, in terms of ability, shape, size, colour, and more, because as Mr Fred Rogers tells us, the real disability lies in the inability to be compassionate, and kind.  

Laal Singh Chaddha will release on 11 August

Takshi Mehta is a freelance journalist and writer. She firmly believes that we are what we stand up for, and thus you’ll always find her wielding a pen.

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