Didwania, Anshuman -- Haider

Haider is a powerful narrative by noted Indian filmmaker Vishal Bharadwaj that explores numerous issues, including the Kashmir conflict, terrorism, legislation in India as well as adapts Shakespearean drama to the Indian context. Vishal Bharadwaj, as a new-age filmmaker who has made powerful storytelling at the center of his movies has managed to take serious literary and cinematic themes and make them mainstream. Haider is his newest endeavor in such adaptations after ground-breaking and critically-acclaimed movies like Ishqiya, Maqbool and Omkara. A few themes that are particularly powerful and stood out for me were:

·       The Genesis of the Kashmir Conflict

·       Characterization of the Indian Army

·       Cinematic Artefacts Deployed

THE GENESIS OF THE KASHMIR CONFLICT

            The Kashmir conflict, with roots dating back to the Partition (which co-incidentally was covered as part of 1947, Earth), was explored with much nuance and precision by Vishal Bharadwaj in Haider.  The opening scenes set up the conflict that will inevitably plague the protagonists. On one hand, there are the insurgents (or terrorists, depending on the viewpoint taken), who are being assisted by Haider’s father, a doctor, on the principle that it is his “duty” to help everyone and anyone that requires his services. Yet, on the other hand, we see a rather draconian measure being executed by the Indian Army in a search/validation operation where every male member of the town is being identified and screened by a masked informant. The tension is immediate and palpable, and peaks when the doctor is selected by the informant to be apprehended. As the doctor is being whisked away, with his fate unknown, there appears to be an army operation to flush out the insurgents holed up within the doctor’s house, where he had given them refuge. The lack of foresight and empathy in the conflict is most highlighted when the leader of the army operation, upon seeing one of his soldiers wounded, orders the entire house to be blown up with a bazooka instead of trying to capture the insurgents alive through a more tactical operation – of course, this makes sense from his viewpoint, but he does not consider Haider or his mother who still resided there, and as always, become the bystanders and casualties of a conflict which they did not choose to partake or participate in.

            As the movie progresses, the viewers are subtly, but very powerfully, exposed to the horrors of the Kashmir conflict that the everyday Kashmiri is facing. We see issues like the AFSPA (the Armed Forces Special Powers Act), Article 370, local Kashmiri politics, local police atrocities, and of course Pakistan-sponsored (“sarhad ke paar”) insurgency that infiltrate the lives of local citizens like Haider. Vishal Bharadwaj, through a beautifully poignant scene, depicts that while Haider’s father had reconciled with his fate, what had brought him pain and misery and a longing for revenge was not the politically-charged Kashmiri conflict that he had become mired in, but the betrayal by his own brother, who had capitalized on the conflict to not just attain power, but also to abuse it. Another powerful scene that highlighted the conflict was Haider’s “AFSPA Chutzpah” tirade in the town square – while it did have elements of Hamlet’s “to be or not to be” personal existential woes, it primarily represented Haider’s political existential conundrums where he was torn between loyalty to Pakistan and India, and very poignantly refers to the fact that no one asks “them” what they want, which is “Azaadi” (Freedom).

CHARACTERIZATION OF THE INDIAN ARMY

            The Indian Army has been valorized by Bollywood over its history – from movies like Border to Mission Kashmir to LOC Kargil – the military has always been portrayed as a powerful, moral force which is completely indispensable and in the right. It makes sense that such an institution would be valorized in a country like India – the country split by so many socio-political, religious, and ethnic differences is united by very few entities, and an institution like the military is one of them. It is, after all, a larger than life organization that protects and safeguards one and all. Additionally, there have been numerous skirmishes and wars that India has fought in its short stint as an independent modern country, and the citizens are well-aware of high valued the services of the military are. Thus, it is conceivable that one of the largest armies in the world would be worshipped in lore, literature and cinema in a country like India.

However, Vishal Bharadwaj’s Haider takes a more nuanced and unbiased perspective on the topic. In Haider, Bharadwaj does not aim to label the army in broad strokes – neither good nor bad. He very smartly identifies agency issues that persist and exist in any organization – including the Indian Army – an showcases the impact that these issues could have on the general populace. The first instance is already referred to above – where a squadron leader blows up Haider’s house without any concern for the citizens who own the house, and this has long-term impact on not just Haider, but his entire family. More instances of such agency problems within the army are highlighted through the corruptibility of the local police force that is working with the army, and is seeking to earn substantial money based on the number of militants that they encounter and kill – clearly, a policy and formula that will lead to uninhibited abuse without any accountability and checks, taking many casualties in the process. Finally, the arbitrary nature of AFSPA and Article 370 is demonstrated throughout the movie, most notably by Haider’s demonstration in the town square, but more subtly through the depiction of the associations of widowers, and abandoned sisters, mothers, daughters, and relatives. Haider, despite being a young man full of promise, is shown going from court to court, door to door, association to association, trying not just to find his own father, but also speak for the victims and the relatives of the victims that have fallen prey to draconian laws such as the AFSPA and Article 370, and the enforcement by corrupted officials of the army and the local administration.

CINEMATIC ARTEFACTS DEPLOYED

            Apart from the obvious references to Shakespeare’s Hamlet, Vishal Bharadwaj also used some very bold and revolutionary techniques which are rather unusual in Bollywood. For instance, in order to lend darkness and depth to the movie, the movie was largely monotone. Even the celebrated Dal Lake of Kashmir was portrayed as something foreboding and forlorn. The references to Islamic terrorism and Pakistan were also evident in the abundant use of green throughout the movie. This was of course in stark contrast to the more urbanized and colorful movies that have been churned out by other more mainstream directors in Bollywood and Indian cinema where color and picturesque locales are necessary ingredients of the entertainment experience at the movies. Finally, it was interesting to see how noir elements were added through the usage of and depiction of blood in the movie – most notably at the very end. Most Indian movies tend to shy away from displaying graphic scenes with significant gore. However, as with his previous endeavors, Vishal Bharadwaj did not shy away from liberal, but tasteful deployment of blood in the movie – for instance, the last scene, which is expected to be a sort of a battleground, features some extremely graphic scenes (including decapitation), but yet, the violence seemed necessary instead of gratuitous.

Aishwarya Vardhana - Response to "Haider"

Haider was a powerful film for several reasons. Aside from the successful execution of cinematic elements (e.g. videography, casting selection, acting) the story told is an inveterate controversy. Haider is modeled after the Shakespearean tragedy Hamlet, a story well-known throughout the world. Director Vishal Bhardwaj's decision to model the movie narrative after Hamlet is appropriate for three reasons:  

1) Hamlet the tragedy is deeply religious - as was the insurgency in Jammu and Kashmir 

2) Hamlet the character is deeply philosophical 

3) Hamlet the tragedy cannot be separated from its feminist undertones

The religiousness, philosophical rhetoric and feminist messages of Hamlet, in addition to its timeless adaptability, make it the perfect framework for Bhardwaj's "Haider". However despite creating an objectively impressive movie, Bhardwaj fails to do justice to the deeply complex Kashmiri insurgency and, more importantly, speaks over the Kashmiri audience. He makes a film about Kashmir that is not for the Kashmiri people (a film which he “fraudishly” then dedicates to the Kashmiri community) which is problematic because 

1) it reflects the imbalance of power within India 

2) silences, by omission, the marginalized voices of Kashmiri Pandits 

3) reflects the continual pattern of Bollywood appropriating and/or misrepresenting minority communities within India.

I believe the film Haider is not for the Kashmiri audience for three main reasons:

1) The excessive amount of death and violence in the movie panders to a non-Kashmiri audience. The movie melts all the different deaths together, whether the death is of a soldier, an insurgent or a civilian, there are no distinctions made between the different kinds of death or the different reasons for which people die. Instead of giving a face to the countless, faceless Kashmiris who died, disappeared, were traumatized for life, or the generational violence experienced by families, the film glorifies the gore of the insurgency and compiles all death into a monolithic, bloody mess. While this tactic may have appealed to the larger Indian audience and bolstered the commercial success of the film, it simultaneously removes the context in which a community suffered. Bhardwaj capitalizes on the dramatic and controversial nature of the Kashmiri conflicts and by removing the nuances of the conflict is able to commercialize a real life tragedy into an artistic one.

2) It promotes the concept of "improvement" in Kashmir that is measured in relation to increases in tourism, an industry with its own plethora of problematic effects. This promotion of gauging the normalcy of Kashmiri lives with respect to the influx of tourists (tourists who harm the environment and disrupt the lives of native Kashmiris) is indicative of Haider’s ignorant approach to presenting Kashmir to the rest of India and the larger world. 

3) In his Tweets actor and Kashmiri Pandit Anupam Kher articulates the fraudish nature of the film, arguing that it leans in favor of the insurgency and is less sympathetic of the plight of Kashmiri Pandits. While I believe Kher's stance crosses over into a territory that is largely Hindu fundamentalist and nationalist and his comparison of the insurgents to the Taliban exposes bias on his part, I agree with his anger in Bhardwaj's disregard for the genocide experienced by Kashmiri Pandits. Perhaps Haider empathizes with the insurgents because historically their narrative has been silenced due to their Pakistani ties, however I find Bhardwaj's dedication of the film to the Kashmiri Pandit community irrelevant and therefore "fraudish", as Kher says in his Tweet.

Haider: Jhelum River and the Plight of Kashmir

            In Haider, I am captivated by Vishal Bhardwaj's portrayal and use of the stunning scenery of Kashmir in nearly every other scene of the film. Apart from the notable climactic scenes that portray blood in the icy, snow-capped mountains of Kashmir, there are several shots that showcase the vast meadows, rocky crevices, breathtaking autumn countryside, and rivers of the valley. As one of the few films shot entirely in Kashmir, Haider demonstrates the importance of setting in film and shows that drawing upon the natural landmarks of a particular location can beautifully complement the emotional undertone of a dramatic story. However, the setting is not just significant to the storyline; one focus of the film, especially in the first half, as Bharadwaj Rangan points out, is on creating a sociopolitical understanding of Kashmir. In particular, the song "Jhelum" stands out as an extremely moving and effective portrayal of the plight of Kashimiri citizens, trapped forever in a state of uncertainty and fear. Bhardwaj's use of very carefully angled shots, as well as the overall metaphor between the Jhelum River and the state of the hapless victims of the Kashmir Valley makes Haider more than a political reenactment of Hamlet; it adds humanity to the film and brings about awareness to a relevant social situation, which is both characteristic of Bhardwaj's style and gratifying to see in a major Bollywood movie.

            The song opens with a shot of Haider and Arshia being rowed across the Jhelum River. What catches our eye in this scene as we glance over Shahid and Shraddha Kapoor's grim, unchanging, expressionless faces is the repeated motion of the oarsman – a perpetual, sweeping action with a tiny oar which evokes the never-ending monotony of hopelessness in the lives of those caught in a war-torn no-man's land as well as the helplessness that an individual oar has in battling the waters of the massive Jhelum. We then transition to several scenes showing Arshia and Haider visiting prison camp after prison camp, desperate for news of Haider's father but to no avail. These scenes reveal Bhardwaj's chilling strategy of framing the shot through barbed wire, prison bars, or a tiny window, which gives viewers the feeling of being closed in and subdued, thus letting us directly experience the crushing effect that living in a military-ruled region has. This is also strengthened by the film's repeated reference to the constant curfew in place, which shows the direct influence of co-writer Basharat Peer, considering that his memoir is titled Curfewed Night. At two distinct points in the song, we start with the focus on Haider and Arshia's faces, but then shift the focus, by the end of the shot, to the spiky barbed wire in the forefront of the scene, which evokes the desire for freedom (reminiscent of the crowd's shouts of "azadi" during Haider's monologue) and shows how each attempt at escaping the Kashmiri cycle of misery leads to disappointment after disappointment for the people and battle after battle for the region. In a subsequent scene of the song, Arshia holds up a photo of Haider's father to show a police officer, and we see the scene from his point of view, with shots quickly alternating between Arshia's face behind bars and the Salman Khan movie playing in the back room. I am interested by Bhardwaj's fascination with Salman Khan in the film. In recent Bollywood news, Khan also shot a film in Kashmir and is generally for the idea of removing the stereotype of a terror-struck region from Kashmir. Salman Khan himself even recently said that he wants cinema theaters to open in the Kashmir Valley, that his grandfather was from Kashmir, and that he even adopted a Kashmiri family. Perhaps this points to Bhardwaj and Peer's desire in the film to humanize the inhabitants of Kashmir, even while creating a contrast between the typical, romanticized "Bollywood" depictions of Kashmir in films songs similar to those in Salman Khan movies.

 Another shot in the song shows Haider's printed out photos being tossed away by a soldier, where they fall like bits of snow against the mountainous backdrop of the scene. This ties together, in one brilliant, slow-motion, time-stopping scene, the setting and the emotion of things flying apart and falling helplessly to the earth. In the next shot, we finally see sunlight after a series of various shades of gray, but the coming of day does not bring hope but rather a truck of corpses, which instantly reminds me of Deepa Mehta's train full of victims of violence from the Partition in Earth, 1947. Bhardwaj unflinchingly depicts a live body springing out from among the corpses and the giddy joy and confusion that comes with being alive in a region that seems to be in a constant state of death. By juxtaposing the living and dead bodies, he shows how life is nearly equivalent to death here, and that even while being alive, it is easy to mistake oneself as dead.  Perhaps the most powerful shot from "Jhelum" is the panning shot that mirrors the sliding movement of our eyes as we read the heartbreaking signs that family members hold up, waiting for closure about their loved ones. The text on the signs is concise but powerful: "half widow," "what am I, posthumous or orphan," "my father, where is he," and "where are our loved ones?" These loaded words written in all capital letters juxtaposed with the blank, shadowed faces of the people holding them up shows us the tangible emotional tension and tiredness in the lives of victims of collateral war damage. The song illustrates Arshia's earlier words "tumhare ghar mein ghar jaisa kuch bacha nahin hai," which apply both directly to Haider and to Kashmir as a whole.

One brief shot in the film also shows a newspaper headline that reads "Bodies found in Jhelum River," which is a historically accurate fact considering that, by some counts, over 800 bodies have been found in the river over the past three decades. Later, the river is alluded to again, during the song "Bismil," which represents the play within the play of Hamlet. The background dancers "leap about in an apparent imitation of the roiling Jhelum," and firmly establish the river as a symbol of hidden sin and guilt. This is interesting considering that the Jhelum River is traditionally considered a manifestation of the Goddess Parvati for the purpose of "purifying the land from evil." The choice of the Jhelum River in particular as a vehicle for Kashmiri sorrow is apt because the river crosses the border and flows in both India and Pakistan, which helps universalize the message by emphasizing the mixed identity of Kashmiris and the overall, human cry for help and understanding.

The song itself is fittingly slow and melancholy, and elicits a feeling of unease with the musical score and lyrics. Far from being a stereotypical, commercial Bollywood song, it seems to be based on classical music, which brings with it a heavier and more serious tone. Right from the opening lines, the clear male voice of Vishal Bhardwaj drips with sorrow, and seems to lag behind the rhythm as if overwhelmed with pain – an auditory component that matches the heaviness on the characters' faces and the hard-hitting images we see on the screen. The lyrics, too, create images of helplessness and gloom with "andhi raat" and "dooba sooraj" "waqt ka khoon hua," and the repeated idea of the river turning red with blood.

The "Jhelum" song captures the tired spirit of the people. As Basharat Peer, the author of "Curfewed Night" puts it, "the heady, rebellious Kashmir I left as a teenager was now a land of brutalized, exhausted and uncertain people...The conflict might leave the streets, but it might not leave the soul.” Bhardwaj shows that a director's involvement and investment in a heart-touching soundtrack can lead to a very powerful result, and through songs like "Jhelum," he redefines the limits on the role of Bollywood music in a movie. Anyone who watches Haider will leave with a part of the Kashimiri conflict in their hearts. In the end, I am very glad that we were exposed to the powers of Bollywood in creating an emotional connection that transcends fiction and has serious, relevant social implications.

Madness in Haider

            As is the case for its source material of Hamlet, Haider is full of very complex characters. Few things about any of the main characters’ emotions and motivations are morally black-and-white, and furthermore, intertwined with these inner workings is a significant amount of madness. Almost every character can be seen to be diseased of mind, in some way, at one point of the movie or another, and the ways in which people deal with madness is a main theme explored by the film.

            Haider, notably, is driven insane by the betrayal of his mother and uncle, as well as his resulting desire for vengeance. Interestingly though, this madness seems to be empowering at first. Shakespeare often used the character of “the fool” or “the madman” to speak the most unadulterated truths, guarded as they were by the comedic front of their comments as well as their perceived disability. Haider, upon his return from his initial meeting with Rhoodar, is a perfect example of this “wise fool” archetype. He excites the crowd with such a scathing analysis of the Indian government’s actions in Kashmir that at this point, audience members are left questioning whether he is actually insane – it seems like he’s just using it as a shield as discussed above, hiding behind his madness as he speaks his mind and does what he believes he needs to do.

            Haider continues to come across as at least somewhat in control of his mental state until he murders Salman and Salman. The madness has ceased to be empowering since the wedding dance, when Khurram reveals his understanding of Haider’s plans. Now, as he bludgeons his old friends’ heads in with rocks, the madness seems debilitating, in control of Haider rather than the other way around. His original, focused plan of avenging his father by killing Khurram has been blurred by his emotional turmoil, and now justifies the murder of anyone who stands in his way. There are very few lenses through which Haider can be viewed as morally better than anyone he is combating after this point, and viewers suffer the loss of their hero not to death, but to madness and the evil it has begotten.

            However, not only does Haider’s insanity drive him to commit various atrocities, but those atrocities, in turn, engender madness in the minds of those he loves as well. Ghazala warns Haider that revenge only results in revenge, but the same is evidently true in the case of madness. Arshia and Ghazala, notably, are emotionally disturbed by Haider’s crusade to the point of insanity. It is interesting to compare the resulting madness of these two with that of Haider himself though. With Khurram as a very obvious target for blame and aggression, Haider’s compulsion becomes to bring about Khurram’s death. Arshia and Ghazala both love Haider too much too blame him for their sorrows, and so have no target for blame or aggression. As a result, they both end up seeking death themselves, committing suicide. Madness drives its victims toward death in all three cases, whether it is someone else’s or their own. We get a sense that part of Haider’s internal conflict at the end of the film as he is trying to decide whether or not to shoot Khurram is due to his realization that he must now find a new purpose in this horrible life he’s just created for himself. His decision not to kill Khurram suggests a slight step back from his madness, a slight regain of control. With the understanding that his father’s murder will shortly die anyway, Haider instead chooses to avenge his mother in a way – by fulfilling her final desire for him not to seek revenge.

            Treachery leads to anger, and anger leads to madness. Madness leads to sorrow, and sorrow leads to more madness. In the final seconds of the film though, all of this madness and sorrow leads to clarity. Unfortunately, the destructive cycle is broken far too late for any happiness to be salvaged by anyone involved.

Haider Film Analysis

Kapil Kanagal

COMPLIT 247

Haider Film Analysis

26 May 2015

The Color of Love

Vishal Bhardwaj’s film Haider serves as a modern adaptation of William Shakespeare’s Hamlet, with an interesting twist. The film is set in the highly contentious region of Kashmir and revolves around the story of the titular character, Haider Meer. The story explores themes such as violence and love in Kashmir, while also serving to critique both the Indian and Pakistani governments for promoting violence and conflict throughout the area. It specifically chooses to focus on Haider’s character to explore the impact the conflict in Kashmir has had on everyday citizens. The film also explores and critiques the misuses of AFSPA by the Indian army in Kashmir, which led to the rise of insurgency forces in the area. Throughout the movie, Bhardwaj uses color to augment Haider’s catharsis from a curious boy into an insurgent.

In the beginning of the film Bhardwaj utilizes the color of Haider’s clothing to depict him as a curious and intellectual young man. When we are first introduced to the college-aged Haider, we see him wearing faded blue jeans, a purple shirt, and a green jacket. Additionally, Haider is also described to us as a curious young college boy, looking to explore the world. After learning of the destruction of his house, Haider is devastated and filled with disbelief. He tries to put together the broken pieces of his life, particularly by asking Arshia to hold his cricket bat while he attempts to shine his father’s shoes and clean up the broken remains of what used to be his house. His actions reveal his naïve nature and parallel the bright, vibrant colors he wears throughout the film.

Haider then goes looking for his father, searching through camps, graveyards, and offices for any trace of his father’s location. While searching for his father, Haider continues to sport a boyish look, with long hair, and colorful clothing. He relentlessly searches for his father and is adamant that his father is alive. After months of searching, he finally stumbles across a clue to his father’s whereabouts after having a telephone conversation with a man named Roodhar. Haider is quick to follow up on Roodhar’s lead and is soon taken into a secret location where many of Roodhar’s insurgency forces await him. When he meets with Roodhar, Haider is still sporting his boyish long hair, but has grown a beard and is wearing darker colored clothing. Haider’s beard and darker colored clothing reveal the catharsis he is about to go through, foreshadowing his eventual transition from a young man into an insurgent.

After meeting with Roodhar, Haider decides to act on information about his father’s whereabouts, only to find his father’s grave. Haider is extremely distraught after discovering that his father is dead, and his mind enters a state of insanity. We see Haider transition from the young boy with long hair, into a dangerous and mentally unstable militant. This transition serves as Haider’s catharsis in the film, the point where he permanently changes from the young innocent boy he is portrayed as in the beginning of the film to the mentally scarred militant he ends up becoming in the end of the film.

Haider then shaves his head and sports short hair and dark clothing throughout the rest of the film. This action directly shows his marked change into an insurgent with angst against both the Indian government and his uncle. Haider’s relationship with his mother becomes increasingly tempestuous, as she struggles to come to terms with her husband’s death. Eventually, she marries her brother-in-law, but Haider views this notion with extreme contempt. Even the actress Tabu, who plays Haider’s mother, Ghazala, in the film explains, “Ghazala is torn between her idealistic husband, opportunistic brother-in-law and her innocent and passionate son. Somewhere she feels she has the responsibility to keep everything in control but obviously she can’t.” This divide between Haider and his mother leads to Ghazala’s own struggles as she tries to justify her actions to her son. The matured and changed Haider has no sympathy for his mother’s actions, and instead he finds himself increasingly isolated. He ends up joining insurgency forces led by Roohdar and plans to kill his uncle. After Haider kills Arshia’s brother and father, he finds himself entrapped in a shootout. During the fight, we see Haider wearing a dark jacket while firing against Indian armed forced, led by his uncle. Amidst all the violence, Ghazala arrives and tries to reason with Haider to surrender. After failing to do so, she walks out wearing all black clothing and a red scarf, but takes off her coat to reveal a vest filled with grenades. She eventually detonates them, killing everyone besides Haider and his uncle. Haider’s uncle is wounded severely, but Haider eventually chooses not to kill him.

The final frame of the film pans out to show the violence and destruction caused by the conflict. The scene reveals many dead bodies wearing black military gear amidst the backdrop of white snow and a raging red fire. It is no coincidence these colors match the exact colors Ghazala was wearing when she arrived at the scene. Bhardwaj purposefully does this to highlight the division and violence in Kashmir. By utilizing the contrasting colors of black and white, Bhardwaj is able to use these colors as a metaphor for the Indian and Pakistani governments. He then uses the color red to represent the blood that has been shed by both sides as they have fought over the Kashmir region. By focusing on three colors – black, white, and red – Bhardwaj is able to encapsulate the violence of the struggle in Kashmir, and he specifically chooses to end the film in this way to critique this violent struggle.

Haider: The Representation of ‘Home’

Haider depicts the vengeful conquests of a son trying desperately to avenge the death of his father. It follows him through his journey of getting to know more information about his father’s disappearance, which eventually lends the way for the intense drama and competing conflicts. It is set in the background of Kashmir, which draws upon the rising tensions between Pakistan and India in a drawn-out power struggle over control of the area. It portrays the prevalence of militarization and army authority in the environment, and represents the crippling impact on civilian lifestyles. One of the recurring motifs in the film is the representation of ‘home’ and how the physical entity goes on to further depict the current turmoil of Kashmir.

The film opens with Hilal attempting to save a militant’s life and offering his home as a place to perform the life-saving operation. The unusual location for the procedure is indicative of the surreptitious nature of the events to follow. The use of ‘home’ is a personal word, but when Hilal opens his home to be the place of operation, it seems like somewhat of an invasion of personal space. This is suggestive of the muddled line that Hilal crosses between his personal life and his occupation. He had an intense passion for saving the “ill”, a metaphor for his need to ‘restore his ‘ill’ hometown to health’, that sometimes overshadows his commitment to his family and others in his environment (Baradwaj Rangan).

Our first introduction to Ghazala in the film is when she stands in front of the classroom to teach the students, most probably in the context of an English class, with the question “what is a home”. She goes on to suggest descriptions of the meaning of home: “it is brothers and sisters, and mothers and fathers” and “it is unselfish acts of kindness”. Her descriptions are simplified and single-faceted in such a way that it becomes superficial. It is idealistic but is no longer possible in the depressing current state of affairs.  She goes on to ask the question one more time, but the film shows her finally looking at the van that her husband is in with the injured militant. Her face falls flat as she sees her husband, in a way acknowledging the words that she repeats to the students, in a brainwashing and robotic way, are not true. The wide-angle shot again seems to make her seem small in the context of the classroom amongst the more significant events to follow.

When the house is burned to the floor, the physical transformation is representative of the current state of Kashmir. The once largely luxurious and comfortable ‘home’ had been turned into ashes that are unaccommodating and actually degrading to the individuals in it or associated to it. The interaction between the militant stuck in the house and Hilal in the scene is very symbolic of the state of Kashmir. People that are not Indian natives, as represented by the militant, are seen as the obvious enemy. They are fought with directly through the aggressive nature of the military, and the military usually wins through sheer resources. The militant hiding in the cupboard and stuck in the house shows how the military seeks out those who are not solely Indian natives and corners them into a position where they can attack. They want to bury these views in Kashmir. Hilal, a partaker in the fostering of the militant, is seen also as responsible for being disloyal to India; he is also severely punished and murdered for his actions. However, he agreed to do the surgery because he was unbiased in his views, not for the purpose of helping the enemy. This is representative of the view that every person who is not seen to be completely for the Indian control of Kashmir is actually against India and serves as a threat.

While Haider is adapted and draws inspiration from Hamlet, it has some strong parallels but also contains character omissions and differing character portrayals (Yash Movie Analysis: Haider). The general literature surrounding the film acknowledges this relationship between the original novel and the modern movie. The movie is able to successfully infuse elements of Hamlet, while still largely maintaining a unique perspective to represent a disturbing time in Indian history. As the motif of ‘home’ continues to reappear multiple other times in the film, the scope of this paper would simply not allow for an examination of the entire progression of the meaning of the word. However, it attempts to build the basis of the meaning and representation of the home such that becomes obvious that it is an extended metaphor in the film.