Maratha Braveheart:
The son of a towering figure like Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj would need to do a lot more to prove his credentials as a worthy successor. His older son Sambhaji was a fearless warrior, and a constant thorn in the side of Mughal ruler Aurangzeb. Sadly, his brief nine-year-reign was not quite enough for him to acquire the kind of mythic status that matches that of his father.
Now that lesser known, or forgotten heroes of history are being pulled out of dusty trunks by cinema and OTT, a biopic on Chhatrapati Sambhaji was inevitable. There have been films made on him before, even in the early days of silent cinema, but not one as grand as this. It is also a mark of the times, that it is impossible to make an honest biopic—any fact that is perceived as a slight by some militant fringe, and violence can be unleashed.
So, Laxman Utekar’s Chhaava (Lion Cub), based on the book by Shivaji Sawant, focuses almost entirely on his impressive martial exploits, as if any attempt to humanize him or see his softer side would somehow diminish his heroism. Sambhaji was a scholar, writer, linguist (he is heard speaking English in a brief scene) and very able administrator too.
Leaving out his somewhat controversial youth, the film begins with Aurangzeb (Akshaye Khanna) and the Mughals relieved at the news of Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj’s death. Certain that the Maratha empire would now be left vulnerable, they are taken by surprise by the attack on Burhanpur, by Sambhaji’s (Vicky Kaushal) army, and the complete sacking and burning of the important Mughal outpost. Without wasting much time, Utekar starts the Bollywood-isation of Sambhaji. He jumps with his horse over a long barricade, and leaves the Mughal army in tatters, but not before being dropped into a dungeon where he battles a lion.
The valiant Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj rises to claim the throne, even as his stepmother Soyarabai (Divya Dutta) dreams of the coronation of her son Rajaram. Like his father, Sambhaji hopes to achieve swaraj from Mughal rule, for which he spends a large part of his reign on the battlefield, with the support of his band of loyalists, that include the bard, Kavi Kalash (Vineet Kumar Singh), who remained with him till both were put to death.
Chhatrapati Sambhaji’s exploits force Aurangzeb to take off his crown and swear to wear it only when his foe is defeated. Using his father’s tactics of guerilla warfare, the young king fights the far superior Mughal army wearing disguises and planning surprise attacks. He leads from the front and inspires his men. The battle sequences are among the most detailed and spectacular (cinematographer Saurabh Goswami’s work is outstanding), ever seen in Hindi cinema (with a few nods to Hollywood films like 300 and the ever popular show Game Of Thrones).
The makers are aware that hardly anyone remembers their school text books or reads history, so who will question accuracy? But does a real hero need constant bombastic lines spoken by and to him; so much so that his wife (Rashmika Mandanna) also talks more like a follower than a woman worried about her husband’s wellbeing.
When Sambhaji is captured after being betrayed by two of his own men, Aurangzeb, goaded by his daughter Zinat-ul-Nissa (Diana Penty), unleashes the most horrific torture on him. In scenes reminiscent of The Passion Of The Christ, Utekar does not spare any wound, any bloodletting, gouging of eyes, still, the chained Chhatrapati is still able to reply in brave words to Aurangzeb’s taunts, till his tongue is ripped off.
By the time the film reaches the point of this tragedy, it has already exhausted the viewer with the relentless violence. The other characters are given about as much importance as the pillars in the palace. Akshaye Khanna, face buried with prosthetics so that he is forced to mumble his dialogue, still conveys malevolence through his eye—looking almost mummified by his own hate over the years, till he is able to destroy his enemy.
Vicky Kaushal has the physical stature and the talent to make a terrific Chhatrapati, balancing the warrior rage with a regal dignity when he is in normal mode. After a character and a film like this, at least for a while, everything else he does, will look bland.
(This piece first appeared in rediff.com)
