POPCORN REVIEWSS

Based on the book ‘Bano: Bharat Ki Beti’ by journalist Jigna Vora and based on the true events from the year 1985, Haq adapted by Reshu Nath, is more about courage and resilience in the wake of a fractured legal system for Shazia, in a drama that doubles up as a searing character study. For Shazia, the decline in her relationship with her husband is evident when he begins to be indifferent with her. He hardly gives her time, yells at her on a phone and asks her to fight her own battles – an interesting prelude to the larger context of the drama that would follow. Also Shazia, now a mother of three kids is left to welcome a new entrant in her family – Abbas’ new wife Sara (Vartika Singh), someone whom Abbas was always in love with, but never got a chance to be together until now.

The early signs of patriarchy are exposed in a subtle manner wherein Abbas tries convincing Shazia about how she would always be his first love and first wife, while manipulating her into believing his shrugged feelings for his second wife Sara. It must also be noted on how Abbas uses religion as a ploy to safeguard his interests, almost exploiting its loopholes with the mentality of a lawyer. It is similar to the case on how in the name of religion, everything is forgiven, slowly prompting Shazia to leave the household with her three children. The events that follow entwine the legal and religious loopholes of its time, even as Shazia files a legal notice against Abbas who refuses to give her alimony, even while Abbas in a fit of arrogance and rage, chooses to ‘Triple Talaaq’ his wife on the pretext that Section 125 offers the right to alimony only when you still are husband and wife. The exploitation of religion for the betterment of patriarchy is what formulates the drama here – one that is also designed to make patriarchy win!

The drama allows you space to invest in the emotional journey of Shazia, who is ably backed by her liberal father (Danish Husain). In fact, one of the emotional cores of the drama hinges on the bond that Shazia shares with her father, even in a scene wherein the latter chooses to stand by her in front of a Kazi and the members of the religious board. You see that Shazia’s father doesn’t interfere in the personal arguments between Shazia and Abbas, while tactfully staying onshore to provide emotional support to her. In a searing scene when the family is struggling with their finances, and Shazia’s father, a cleric sees the last of one of his students, there is a sense of heartbreak that he masks behind a smiling face, something that Shazia does sense helplessly.

A small demerit in the writing can be extended to how the drama briefly dips in the second hour, after an immaculate first hour that focuses on the world building and characterization. The dip comes on the back of some abrupt timeline shifts that tries to fast-forward through the key events that transpired in the life of Shazia. It is a very specific issue related to biopics wherein the idea remains to touch upon key incidents while bartering with the emotional core of the drama. The latter holds true here although it is compensated with stupendous performances that don’t let you feel this lag to a large degree. But the writing, it can’t be denied, slips marginally.

One of the central themes of the drama remains that of courage and resilience, and that can be witnessed through the years that pass in the life of Shazia. From being marginalized by members of her oen community, to having to bear personal losses and manage the finances of her children, you see the struggles of Shazia, silently veering through these challenges. You also witness a transition of sorts for Shazia – from being dimly vocal to slowly having the courage to raise her voice. There is a commentary on feminism and women empowerment somewhere in between, with Shazia being at the center of things here.

It must also be noted on how balanced the narrative is, without wishing to garner points on sensationalism and the politics in the drama. The lens remains a fight between right and wrong without using religion as a tool for hatred, which was wonderful to witness here. Even from a character perspective, you see how both the protagonists stand to lose here. For Shazia, it is about the passage of time that sees her loved ones depart while being burdened with the finances of her children, for Abbas, it is about losing the respect of his children. Yes, you see Abbas as a patriarch who is driven by ego (and a sense of cusion with respect to his mother’s support who is blurred by years of suppression), wilfully losing a case at a lower court in order to move to the Supreme Court, but in the process, you see him being distanced from Sara too. It is interesting how Sara remains in the background of Abbas’ life just like Shazia was once upon a time, and that prompts a sense of realisation for the former too.

This brings me to the courtroom scenes, something that I had heavily criticized a show like the second season of The Trial or the even the film Jolly LLB 3 for. In that regard, Haq was everything that I had expected from a film like Jolly LLB 3. The arguments and the counter-arguments that would translate into a fiery battle, something that you get to witness here. But even then, the writing doesn’t lose sight of the emotional core of Shazia even when she remarks on how the memory of her children is reduced to court dates, or the fear whether a similar situation would arise when her daughter would get married. Even in the glances towards Abbas, you see a sense of dignity, courage, resilience and a fear of uncertainty, something that draws you towards her character. By the end of it, you see a certain sense of pain that engulfs the narrative, or even about dignified moments of silence in enduring it, even as you silently sit there feeling for Shazia in haunting moments of silence.