'Qala': Moths, motifs and more – A period film that never feels dated

New Delhi, India

Bikharne ka mujhko shauq hai bada / Sametoge mujhko, meri jaan zara? 

(“I have a fondness for falling apart. Will you help gather me?)

The words written by Varun Grover perfectly capture the essence of Anvita Dutt’s latest movie ‘Qala’. The film takes us on a journey with a renowned singer who has already reached professional heights but is still fighting inner demons. A strained relationship with her mother (played by a superb Swastika Mukherjee) and a dark secret from her past has made sure that happiness is but a fleeting emotion in Qala Manjushree’s (Tripti Dimri) life and the only thing that she truly craves is love. 

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Anvita, whose last film 'Bulbbul' was a feminist supernatural drama set in late 19th century India, chooses the 1930-1940s as the backdrop for her new movie. It is a time where male musicians are ‘Pandits’ and superstars but their female counterparts are reduced to ‘Bai’ – a connotation related to courtesans. As a result, Qala’s gender becomes a hinderance from the very moment she is born in a family of musicians and the fact that her twin brother dies in her mother’s womb only makes the situation worse. Qala’s mother, a singer past her prime, wants to make her a classical maestro but is not happy with her progress and her search for perfection becomes the daughter’s personal hell.

In a household with two women, patriarchy looms like a dark cloud and the entry of a talented singer Jagan Batwal somehow establishes the status quo in the house. Jagan quickly becomes the heir apparent to the gharana (musical lineage) while Qala slowly loses her own ghar (house). Qala even makes it to the film industry in Calcutta but it is not enough to win the love she craves.

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Through the life of Qala, we are constantly reminded of the sexism that has shaped the society – in the 1930s and even today. Within minutes of a press conference after she wins a prestigious award, a male journalist asks her about her marriage plans – something that is still quite common. Even a cry for help from Qala is met with a casual comment from the doctor that women are prone to hysteria. Mental health is almost a constant theme in the story – from Qala’s mother going through the trauma of losing a son to Qala slowly losing the capability to differentiate dreams from reality.  

However, even in the grim snows of Himachal Pradesh or the lonely corners of Calcutta, the movie holds on to its hope. The moth is a constant motif throughout the 119-minute film and like a moth to fire, Qala keeps trying to win her mother’s love. Towards the early part of the movie, Qala even remarks that she hates music but the hope of acceptance allows her to carry on. It is as though the movie is trying to find a glint of hope that the world that Qala inhabits will surely change for the better.

The hope is not limited to Qala. While exploring the film industry, we are introduced to a predatory music director whose reputation of abuse is well known to everyone. Even in this case, Qala chooses to find some hope for the future. The lyricist Majrooh (presumably a tribute to legendary songwriter Majrooh Sultanpuri played by Varun Grover) urges Qala to fight the cycle of abuse and says – Daud badlega, daud ki yeh purani adaat hain (time will change, time has an old habit of doing so).