Clans And Plans:
The family drama is a very narrow space to play around with, and if it is set in a contemporary upper class milieu, there are some tropes that will inevitably make their way into the story. Rahul V Chittella’s Gulmohar (on Disney+Hotstar) checks some of the boxes—identity, sexuality, the gig economy, an inter-religious romance, and even that odious kind of conservatism that shuts out the ‘other.’
The script (co-writer Arpita Mukherjee) places the viewer bang in the midst of a family upheaval. The Batras are moving out of their grand villa, the titular Gulmohar, and will probably be scattered into different abodes, as their home is torn down to make way for towers. The matriarch Kusum Batra (an elegant Sharmila Tagore) wants to move to Pondicherry by herself; the son Arun (Manoj Bajpayee), his wife Indu (Simran) and daughter Amrita (Utsavi Jha) plan to move into a swanky Gurugram penthouse; Arun’s sulky son, Aditya (Suraj Sharma) and his wife Divya (Kaveri Seth) want to rent an apartment of their own, which they cannot really afford. The Batra cousins have gathered for a kind of farewell-to-the-house party, though the mean-spirited uncle, Sudhakar (Amol Palekar) has stayed away.
Arun mutters something to the effect that all of them have been living separate lives under the same roof, but there are too few hints offered about what has caused this friction; why is Aditya so hostile towards his father, do Kusum and Indira have a warm relationship? Why does Amrita feel so lost?
Inspired by Mira Nair’s Monsoon Wedding, that is an inspiration for this film, since Chittella worked with her in the past, (the idea of the film came when Nair’s bungalow in Delhi was similarly demolished), the villa’s household help are also included in the story—the illiterate security guard Jeetu (Jatin Goswami) is in love with the educated Muslim cook, Reshma (Santhy), but does not have the courage to tell him, in spite of exhortations of his English-spouting buddy Param (Chandan Roy).
Kusum insists that the Batra clan celebrate Holi together one last time, but a monstrous misunderstanding blows up. Arun is shocked by what he sees as a betrayal. He would have fallen to pieces but for his understanding wife. Aditya’s start-up is failing due to lack of funds, and he almost takes up a corporate job, but his wife decides to stand by him. The gentle Kusum sorts out the confused sexuality of Amrita, by revealing her own secret (a Maja Maa moment here!)
If the film still draws the viewer into the small tragedies of the family, it is because of carefully-crafted moments, casual conversations or baby steps taken towards a new relationship, though it could with some humour. Surprisingly, Kusum’s side of the family is troubled in spite of a stable upbringing, when Sudhakar’s side are generous and affectionate, despite the man being the type who won’t accept water from a Muslim maid, and has a generally sour disposition.
There is not much that new or unexpected about Gulmohar; the characters often speak like they were reading from a book, in perfectly lyrical or philosophical lines, if the film is still so watchable, it is thanks to the wonderful ensemble of actors – mainly Sharmila Tagore, Manoj Bajpayee and Simran—who imbue the film with the kind of warmth and realism that every Indian family would be able to relate to. There is also the understated fear that if the north-Indian joint family cracks and if homes full of history and memories are destroyed to build soulless highrises, the very essence of Delhi will change. But the march of development cannot be halted, as Mumbai and other cities have already experienced, to detrimental effect. But old landmarks are changing, streets are being renamed and a genteel lifestyle being replaced by unabashed greed. Gulmohar is just a symbol, there is a lot more at stake than just a building.
